A Broken Man
by mashimoshi
Summary: It's hard to conceal the inevitable. And a broken man isn't easily fixed. (Tags to some of my favorite episodes that could have focused on Aramis more. There will probably be some Aramis/Anne romance, of course. My first "Musketeers" work of fiction!)
1. Chapter 1: The Good Soldier

**Alright, so I've fallen in love with the series "The Musketeer!" One of the best series I've ever watched. I've already been obsessed with the Three Musketeers before, and watched practically any and every TV production of it I was able to find, both in Russian and in English. I was borderline obsessed. Still am. And while I was in Israel I started watching the series and fell in love ... and finished all three seasons in less than a week.**

 **I've decided to take a break of writing for "Leverage," because my muse has literally dried on me for that show. I hope I'll be able to get back to fan girling over the show soon. I've already gotten a crap load of ideas for this series, and am excited to write about it.  
**

 **For this story, as said in the summary, I will be tweaking with some stories that I think could have given my favorite character, Aramis, a bigger part. I know that I have tried to do the same with "Leverage," but it didn't really work out. I'm hoping this will.**

 **I already see that this is going to be really hard, since I'm trying to stick with the language they used in the show, so please bare with me while I get used to it. I've been using a lot of stories as a base for how to write. Hopefully my careful 'studying' helped.**

 **So now, without any further ado, I hope you enjoy my newest story! I will be updating as much as I can! Please make sure to read and review, as well as give me some requests if you want me to do something with an episode, or you have prompt! Thanks!**

 **-M**

* * *

Chapter 1: "The Good Soldier"

Aramis sat at a table, a drink in one hand, his head in the other. He was staring off into the distance, his eyes blank. A raised the drink to his lips, letting the alcohol burn through his throat.

He suddenly felt a hand against his shoulder, and he flinched, jerking himself away from it. It took effort to contain a quiet moan.

"Aramis?"

He closed his eyes. _Porthos._

Turning around, he saw his friend standing over him, a concerned expression on his friend. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked. The man took another drink, and Porthos saw that his hands were shaking. "Aramis?"

Aramis took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm fine, Porthos," he replied, a weak, tired smile forming on his face.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded again. "I'm sure. Just … tired."

Porthos scoffed. "'Tired,'" he echoed. "Aramis, what's wrong? Tell me."

His hand traveled to Aramis' shoulder again and Aramis winced suddenly, a hiss of pain escaping him.

"What the hell happened?!" Porthos exclaimed.

The swordsman sighed. "Marsac got a lucky shot," he said quietly. His word were laced with exhaustion. He ran a hand through his curly locks, his gaze dropping down to his cup.

"What?" Porthos' tone was cold. But full of concern.

"You heard me, Porthos," Aramis snapped, shooting a glare at him.

Hurt replaced Porthos' concern. He took a deep breath, closing his fists.

"I'm sorry," Aramis quickly said. "I shouldn't have gone off on you. I just need some rest."

"Let me take you up?"

"Alright."

Porthos grabbed Aramis' uninjured arm and pulled him up. He felt the man shaking against him, and when he felt his skin, he was icy to the touch. "Why are you cold?"

He shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered brokenly. And he really didn't.

The big man got his brother to his room, where he helped him take off his jacket, and where he saw bandages wrapped around his shoulder. He swallowed.

"Why didn't you tell us?" he asked.

"You didn't ask," Aramis replied, smirking.

Porthos tried to laugh, but it turned into a half sob. "Get some rest," he said, trying to ignore the big lump in his throat. He reached for Aramis' hand and gave it a squeeze. "You need it."

Aramis obeyed. He smiled, and then let himself sink into the covers. His eyes closed immediately, and then he was in a deep sleep.

His friend watched over him as he slept. At some point, Athos and d'Artagnan found them, and Porthos took them outside and explained everything.

"He's in bad shape," he was saying, coming to an end to his story. "This thing with Marsac really hurt him-"

A sudden moan erupted from the sleeping Musketeer's room.

Porthos, Athos, and d'Artagnan barged through the door, and found Aramis tossing and turning, clearly in pain. He kept muttering things like, "Savoy," and "Marsac," and "Musketeers."

Porthos dashed over to him, trying to shake Aramis awake. This caused the thrashing man to cry out in pain.

Guilt washed over Porthos. "I'm so sorry, my friend," he mumbled.

Aramis suddenly shot up and grabbed Porthos by the neck, pushing him into a wall. His eyes were full of anger, but they were cloudy. He was panting, his breathing raspy.

Athos and d'Artagnan were about to try and get him off of Porthos, but Porthos shook his head. He turned back to Aramis, staying calm. "Hey, Aramis, it's alright," he said softly. "You're at the garrison, you're safe. You're not at Savoy. I promise you, you are not in Savoy."

Slowly, Aramis calmed. His breathing evened out. "Oh God, Porthos, I am so sorry," he said.

"It's alright," Porthos quickly told him. "It was nothing. Really."

Aramis collapsed then, and d'Artagnan quickly managed to catch him. They got him back onto the bed, where he sat with his head down.

"I am so sorry," he kept repeating.

"I'll get him something warm to drink," d'Artagnan offered.

Athos nodded, and watched him leave the room. "What did you see?" he then asked. He leaned against a wall and crossed his legs, preparing for his story.

Aramis took a shaking breath, and let it out slowly. "Savoy," he muttered. "I was back there again. I saw … all those men again. My brothers. And Marsac … he just left." He paused. "And then I killed him. He was my friend … and I killed him."

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Porthos assured him. "It's over now."

The shaken man shook his head. "It's never going to be over."

D'Artagnan walked back into the room, carrying a cup warmed up wine. Aramis grabbed for it and gulped it down. Like earlier, he let the liquid burn his throat. When he finished, he said, "Thank you."

"Do you think you could rest a bit more?" the youngster asked, clearly worried. "You need it."  
Aramis shook his head. "I don't know."

With help from his friends, he stood up. They made their way down the stairs and sat themselves down at a table. The cold wind chilled Aramis' bones, and he shivered.

Athos got them all some wine, and then they began drinking. Aramis stayed silent the entire time, keeping to himself, drinking his wine. He kept seeing that battle, those dead bodies. His head began to spin, and he reached for the table to steady himself.

"You alright?" d'Artagnan asked.

"I'm fine."

"Last time you said that …," Porthos started, but was cut off when Aramis glared at him.

He raised his arms in surrender.

Aramis kept to his silence again, too tired and hurt to make or be part of any conversation. Pretty soon, everyone retired to their rooms … but Aramis stayed, afraid to sleep. Still, the memories continued to plague him. Those God awful pictures burned into his mind, and he couldn't get them out. He began to grow cold, like he was then. He hung his head, holding back tears.

XxXxX

Treville walked out onto the porch and looked out at the garrison. The first thing he saw was Aramis, sitting at the table, staring onto the ground. He was visibly shaking, and the Captain realized that he was thinking of Savoy. He sighed, beginning to make his way down the stairs.

He silently sat himself down beside Aramis, and instantly noticed the blood soaking through his shirt. When was he shot? he asked himself.

"Marsac managed to shoot me when I killed him," Aramis suddenly said, as if reading his mind. His words held no emotion, and it bothered Treville to see his Musketeer like this.

But instead of saying anything, he took to nodding. He stared at Aramis' empty expression, the unfocused and hurt eyes that were set on nothing. "Did you get any rest?" he finally asked him, afraid for the answer.

Aramis shook his head. "The memories wouldn't let me sleep," he replied simply.

Guilt took over Treville. "I'm sorry," was all he was able to say.

"It was not your fault," the other man murmured. He looked up. "It was mine."

Treville reached for the man's hand, and was slightly startled when Aramis pulled away. He whimpered quietly, grasping for his shoulder. "This is most definitely not your fault, Aramis," he tried to say, but it didn't seem to be working.

"You know, my friends tried to wake me up earlier," Aramis began. "And because my mind kept telling me that I was back … there, I almost Porthos. I lunged at him, thinking he was the enemy. I could have killed him."

His voice broke, and he looked away.

This was not the Aramis Treville knew. But this was all too familiar to him. He suddenly remembered the state Aramis was in when he came back from Savoy. He was hurt, guilty, and afraid. He wouldn't come out for anything for weeks, unless it was the King who sent for him. And when he did go to the Palace, or was forced to accompany Louis somewhere, he was silent, never saying anything that he didn't need to say.

That Aramis that Treville had saw years ago was now back, and Treville told God that he would do anything to get the Aramis that was so full of joy and love back.

"Aramis," he then said.

The Musketeer looked up again, his eyes pained.

"Aramis, this was not your fault," Treville continued. "You did what you had to do to save me. And you could have just let Marsac kill me … but you didn't. And I am so grateful for that. I am proud to know you, Aramis, both as a friend and a comrade. You did the right thing, remember that. Don't let your guilt destroy you. Look past what happened. It is definitely going to be hard, but knowing you, you will succeed. And we all will be there for you along the way."

With that said, Treville patted Aramis' uninjured shoulder, and then went back up to his quarters, leaving Aramis to think.

Aramis took Treville's words into account, and realized that he was right. He smiled slightly at the thought of his friends being there to help him and support him. With that in mind, he went back into his room to catch up on some sleep.

And Treville didn't call for him until he woke up.


	2. Chapter 2: Sleight of Hand

**Well, I already screwed up because I'm stupid! I completely forgot about this episode, and had already published the one after it when I remembered. So sorry, you guys. I hope you still enjoy!**

 **I also screwed up with when the Queen gave Aramis that cross during the episode, but actually liked my version better than the show's. Tell me what you think in the reviews!**

 **So anyway, I hope you like it.**

 **Don't forget to review, as well as share your ideas with what you want me to write in between the episodes.**

 **Okay, okay ... I'll shut up now. This is about Aramis, not me.**

 **-M**

* * *

Chapter 2: Sleight of Hand

The first bomb was a dud, but the second definitely was not.

Aramis felt agonizing pain shoot through his side as he hit the ground, the loud boom! from the blast ringing in his ear. He heard voices crowd around him, people calling his name. His mind was fuzzy, and his vision was blurry.

Something was wrong.

The side of his arm was burning, the feeling unnatural. Aramis began to grow confused.

As his eyes opened, he looked down to see his hand, drenched in his own blood. He saw something sharp sticking out of his abdomen, and taking a closer look through tired eyes, he saw that it was piece of wood that was embedded in his flesh.

He suddenly groaned, his body filling up with unwelcome pain.

"Shh, shh, it's alright," someone was saying. Aramis couldn't match whose voice it was. "You're going to be okay, Aramis, we are going to get you out of here.

He tried to open his eyes again, succeeding this time. He found himself lying on the stairs, his friends beside him. He was lying in someone's lap … and he then saw Athos reaching for that piece of wood.

With a muttered "sorry," Athos pulled the shard out, closing his eyes when hearing his friend scream in agony.

Pain blossomed in Aramis' side and made its way up and down his body. He began to tremble violently as he curled in on himself.

A hand ran through his hair, gentle and loving. Once again, he opened his eyes and saw that he was in the Queen's arms; she was the one who was holding him, calming him down.

Aramis slumped, his head spinning. "I'm … sorry … Your Majesty," he murmured quietly.

Her hand ran through his hair again. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he heard her say.

More pain.

Oh, dear God, make it stop.

Somebody was suddenly helping him up to his feet, and then they were all walking up the stairs.

In what seemed like hours, Aramis' friends somehow got their injured burden to the garrison's medic, who quickly took care of all his injuries.

He explained to the others, that Aramis had received a nasty burn all along his arm, and that it would take time to heal. Aramis had also broken one of his ribs, and cracked two others. The medic then told them that if they hadn't have removed the wood from their friends side … Aramis wouldn't have made it.

When the three Musketeers heard that news, they almost collapsed in relief.

Queen Anne stayed with Aramis for days as he slept. She watched him rest with eyes full of compassion. She studied him, studied the exhaustion written all over his face, studied the pain in his expression whenever his wounds would bring him discomfort. It was hard to watch, but Anne refused to leave until the man woke up so she could have a chance to thank him properly.

In about three days, Aramis finally woke up …

… to a huge amount of pain.

When feeling that terrible ache in his side, the stinging every time he took a breath, and that burning sensation on his arm, Aramis moaned. Somebody was beside him in seconds, raising a cup to his cracked lips and letting him drink.

The cool water felt so good when it made its way down Aramis' throat. He grunted with pleasure, but frowned when it was taken away.

"You can't have too much, Aramis," a familiar voice said.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. "Your Highness!" he exclaimed, his voice weak and quiet.

He was in his room, he noticed, lying on his bed. He was shirtless, bandages wrapped around his waist and down his left arm.

"Hush now, everything is okay," the Queen said, running her hand down the bullet graze he had gotten on his cheek earlier, when he saved her for the first time. Aramis shivered. "How are you feeling? And tell the truth! Your friends have told me that you have a tendency to lie when it comes to your injuries."

Aramis' chuckle turned into a painful cough. He looked back at the Queen and said, "I hurt, Your Majesty. I hurt, but I will be alright."

The woman nodded, satisfied with her answer.

They both fell silent.

In a few moments, the Queen finally cleared her throat and began, "I want to thank you. You saved me countless times today, and I probably wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for your bravery."

Aramis shook his head. "I am just doing my duty, Your Highness. I would do the same for you and anyone else of the royal family a thousand times over."

Anne smiled. "Here," she said, taking something off her neck. "Have this, as a token of my gratitude."

It was beautiful golden cross. Aramis watched in awe as the Queen placed the jewelry around his neck. He looked down at it and then at the Queen.

"Your Majesty, I can't accept this," he said.

"Please, Aramis," the Queen pleaded. "I need you to know and remember my gratitude. Please, take it. May it keep you safe."

Aramis bowed his head slightly. "As you wish, Your Majesty. I thank you."

Once again, the Queen smiled. Oh, Aramis loved her smile. Anne suddenly leaned in and planted a slow, gentle kiss on her Musketeer's forehead. "No," she whispered. "Thank you."

When she pulled away, she stood up and walked out of the room, glancing at Aramis one more time. The minute she left, the injured man sank down into the covers, both out of exhaustion and disbelief.

He kissed the cross that was now hanging around his neck, knowing that with it on him, he would always be safe.

XxXxX

An hour after the Queen left, Porthos, Athos, and d'Artagnan walked into his room, carrying food and drink.

But Aramis barely ate and barely drank. In the time that Her Majesty was gone, it seemed that Aramis had grown weaker and sicker.

As it turned out, he had a very high fever. When his friends had arrived, he was curled into a ball on his bed, sweating and shivering.

When they tried to get him to eat, or at least drink, something, Aramis could barely do it.

They called the medic, who said that there was - thankfully - no infection in his side, but the burn was what was causing it.

"We can't do anything for him now, but wait," he had said, watching as his young patient tried to control his breathing, and stop shaking.

His friends stayed with him all night, refusing to leave his side.

Poor Aramis was haunted by this fever … and the nightmares that came with it … throughout the night. The others were barely able to calm him down when one of them entered his mind, creating a mental torture chamber that Aramis couldn't escape. It hurt all of them to see Aramis like this.

He began mumbling in his sleep one time, begging someone not to leave him.

The three Musketeers exchanged worried glances, each of them understanding that Aramis was dreaming about Savoy again.

That time, when they woke him up, Aramis refused to sleep anymore. Instead, he and his friends talked.

They talked through the night and through his fever, trying to take his mind off of it.

Pretty soon, Aramis lay in a crumpled heap, tired and hurt. His friends left him to it, Porthos staying behind to keep an eye on him.

He slept well this time, and didn't fully wake up for two more days, when the fever finally stopped.

And when he did, his friends were right there to help him get better and to get back to fighting again.

They all knew it was going to be difficult, but they were determined to succeed …

… And in time … they did.


	3. Chapter 3: Knight Takes Queen

**(Wow, two chapters in one day! I'm proud)**

 **So this is definitely one of my favorite episodes, and that is because Aramis got his share of romance. And with the Queen! I was like: "Holy mother of God, Aramis kissed the Queen!" It was truly a wonderful moment.**

 **So, I decided to extend the scene a bit. I hope you enjoy.**

 **I was also wondering if maybe I should make a part two to this chapter, where Aramis and Athos fight until reinforcements arrive, as well as when Aramis found out about Anne carrying his child. What do you guys think? Please make sure to review your thoughts! It's greatly appreciated.**

 **So, without any more of my never ending rambling, here is more Aramis!**

 **-M**

* * *

Chapter 3: Knight Takes Queen

Anne watched as Aramis ran his hands through his locks, taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes, letting it out.

That woman, Sister Helene, had died, but she just didn't know how. Now, it was like he was blaming himself for her death … or maybe for something else …?

She had tried to get him to calm down, but it wasn't working. He must've really loved Sister Helene…

… And then she told him about her dead child, how she never got to meet or raise the baby, never got the chance to be a mother. How she never forgot about him, even after so many years had passed.

Aramis watched her with shock, confused as to why she was telling him this, and why she was entrusting him with this secret.

"I am certain that Sister Helene never forgot you," she had told him.

But he still couldn't forgive himself for what happened. "All these years, I believed Isabelle was the only woman who could make me happy," he said. "But she was right. It was a lie..."

"You're grieving," she started.

"She knew me better than I know myself," he interrupted quietly, refusing to understand. "She was right to stay away from me."

"No, Aramis." She had to make him understand. "You are brave and honourable … and kind."

She paused when seeing him shake his head slightly. His eyes were full of doubt. Doubt towards himself.

"Any woman would be fortunate to be loved by you," she suddenly said.

He looked up, his eyes growing wide.

He watched her as her hands traveled to his chest, and then he looked at her.

Anne instantly saw the pain in his chocolate brown eyes. But she also saw this … gentleness in those beautiful orbs. Those eyes that carried the hardship of death and battle, looking at her like nobody ever did. It was with respect … but not because she was the Queen. But because she was … her.

Without thinking, she leaned in and captured his lips, entangling her hand in his hair. Aramis quickly responded, but was hesitant, as if wanting her to be sure she wanted this. Which she truly did.

They pulled away, staring at each other.

Confusion was written all over Aramis' face, as well as this longing for more.

The Queen reached for the gun on his lap and took it, placing it on the ground. 'What are you doing?' she asked herself. 'You should not be doing this.' But she didn't listen to what her mind was telling her.

Once the gun was out of the way, he stood up, cupping her face and kissing her again.

She didn't resist.

She felt him shaking against her as he wrapped his arms around her. She rubbed his hair and neck with her hand, as if giving him permission.

'What are you doing, you bastard?'

Aramis' mind screamed at him, telling him not to do it. Telling him that this is wrong. He still didn't listen, beginning to take big steps towards the Queen's bed. Her Majesty took the steps with him.

She began to kiss him harder, and Aramis realized that she needed this. And in a way … so did he.

"Your Majesty," he managed to whisper, his thought fading as her lips fell on his again.

Anne pulled him with her when she hit the bed, the man landing on top of her. He

turned the both of them around, still kissing her.

XxXxX

In a few hours, Anne found herself in the Musketeer's strong arms, his chin resting on top of her head. Her finger was gently tracing a large scar on his chest, and she was afraid to assume where he could have gotten it from.

'On the battlefield, fighting for the King,' she thought. Guilt washed over her as she felt him shiver from her touch.

"Tell me," she said. "Where did you get this from?" She pointed to the offensive mark, looking back up at him.

"I got it in a fight, Your Majesty," Aramis replied, his voice tired. "I was sent on a scouting mission by His Royal Highness, and it went wrong. I was forced to fight until reinforcements came, but more men didn't arrive to help until an hour after it got bad. I barely escaped."

Anne gasped.

In return, Aramis pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, barely even realizing that he had done it.

The Queen didn't pay any attention. In fact, she relaxed when she felt him kiss her, and she reached for his hand to squeeze it. He chuckled quietly, interlocking his fingers with her own.

"This is wrong, Your Majesty," he then said. "If anyone finds out, we'll both be hanged."

"I know, Aramis," she replied. "I know. And that's why nobody has to know."

He nodded.

And then she kissed him again, smiling against his mouth when he took a sharp breath. "But that doesn't mean I want to stop," she muttered. "Question is, do you?"

Aramis separated, his eyes searching hers. "No," he said. "No, I don't … Your Majesty."

She smiled, taking his face in her hands and pressing her lips onto his.

They didn't pull away for a long time, and when they did, they went right back to lying in each other's arms. Anne continued tracing Aramis' scars, all with Aramis watching her intently.

'The Queen in my arms,' he thought. 'This is treason, Aramis, what are you doing? What will happen if ….' But he chose to forget about it as he began to fall asleep. He pressed one final kiss to Anne's lips before closing his eyes. He felt her place her small hand in his big one, the other one gently stroking his hair.

Aramis smiled, realizing that this was something that they both desperately needed. And he was so grateful he had gotten it.


	4. Chapter 4: Knight Takes Queen Part 2

**Sorry this chapter is so short, you guys. I'll try to write another chapter today as well to satisfy your daily Aramis needs ;)**

 **Someone by the name of GingietheSnap requested that I make an extended scene of Athos and Aramis arguing about what happened with Aramis and the Queen. Soooooo ... I did! I hope you enjoy! I also added something onto it, to make it at least somewhat long. I hope you enjoy!**

 **Make sure to review, and give me ideas for prompts as well! Thanks!**

 **-M**

* * *

"I cannot believe slept with the Queen!" Athos whisper-screamed.

"I thought you said you didn't see anything," Aramis said calmly. On the inside, he was screaming, begging for God to forgive him.

"They'll hang you!" Athos continued, glaring at his friend, who was foolish enough to sleep with the Queen. "And then they'll hang me for letting it happen."

"Athos, please ...," Aramis said.

The man sighed, and nodded. "You're insane," he muttered.

"Probably. But I would not be asking you if I didn't need your help. Please, Athos, no one must know."

"Oh, I am aware that no one should know," Athos snapped. "I do not want to be hanged for letting my comrade sleep with the Queen!"

Guilt washed over Aramis. He hung his head and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he murmured.

Seeing his guilt, Athos placed his hand on Aramis' shoulder. "It's alright, my friend," he said. "No one will know, and everything will be alright."

Taking a deep breath, Aramis nodded slowly, a tired smile forming on his face. "Thank you, Athos," he said softly.

The swordsman patted his shoulder. "I have your back, Aramis."

"I know you do."

XxXxX

When Aramis heard that Anne was now carrying a child, his eyes grew huge and his jaw nearly dropped. He looked up at the Queen, shaking his head, praying that the child wasn't his.

But when Anne stared dead into his eyes, it was like a knife to the heart. He suddenly felt sick, and had to hold onto a wall for support. He saw Athos looking at him, a terrified and disappointed expression in his eyes.

Oh God, what have I done? Aramis asked himself. Please, grant me mercy.

After the King finished with all his speeches, Aramis was the first to leave. He stood in an empty room, waiting for Anne to come. He kept pacing, his hand in his hair.

When the Queen finally arrived, they exchanged a few words and then Aramis vowed to always protect her and the baby.

In reality, he told her that he loved her … and she understood.

"It's going to be all right, Aramis," she had told him. "Nobody will find out."

And then, when she was sure no one was paying attention, she pulled him away from the door and kissed him hard on the mouth. "We'll be okay," she whispered against his mouth.

Aramis nodded, and then pulled away.

He smiled … and she smiled back.

Back at the garrison, Aramis barely spoke. He kept thinking about her and their child ... and his stupidity. But at the same, he didn't regret it.

He was going to be a father! And even though nobody would be able to know, he still grinned at the thought of it. He was so unfocused that he barely even heard Porthos calling his name.

"Aramis!" he shouted, punching him in the arm.

The man gasped. "What was that for?!" he exclaimed, rubbing his now sore muscle.

"For not responding," Porthos simply replied, smirking. "What's wrong?"

Aramis shook his head. "I was just thinking."

D'Artagnan scoffed. "Sure," he said. "He's probably thinking about some woman he just met the other day."

Everyone except for Aramis burst into laughter. He just stared accusingly at the young Musketeer. But after a few moments, he broke into a smile.

He continued thinking about the Queen. He still begged God to grant him mercy and have it turn out alright.


	5. Chapter 5: Emilie

**Again with a short chapter! What's going on with me?! So sorry everyone. But at least I wrote two chapters in one day! That's something, right? I hope you still enjoy.**

 **Also, before I forget, I was thinking of renaming this story and want to know what you all think. Please make sure to review your thoughts! The support I've been getting already is greatly appreciated. I love each and every one of you! Aramis's for all! Just kidding ... although I wish ... :)**

* * *

Chapter 5: Emilie

"The Queen is allowed to break her promises," Anne whispered.

She stood on the tips of her toes and leaned forward, pressing her lips onto his. Without hesitation, Aramis wrapped his arms around her, returning the kiss. She cupped his face and kissed him harder, melting in his embrace.

He was just so gentle, she thought. She honestly couldn't believe that for someone that fought and killed for a living, Aramis was so gentle when it came to holding her.

They slowly walked to a bed, and Aramis sat down, pulling Anne onto his lap. He kissed her again, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"We had promised each other," he whispered the same phrase as before.

"I know," Anne said. "But I do not care about a promise. What I do care about … is you."

She pulled away and stared into his brown eyes. He just kissed her again, not needing to say that he cared for her, too. Anne knew it already.

The next time they separated, the Queen rested her head on Aramis' legs, taking his hand. He began stroking her hair.

They sat in silence, just enjoying each other's company.

"You know, the King could never give me this," Her Majesty suddenly said. "The King never loved me. Not like you do."

"Well it's a good thing I am not the King then, isn't it?" Aramis replied.

He smiled then, his smile warming Anne's heart. She loved his smile.

"Yes, it is."

In about an hour, Aramis and Anne had to leave. They parted with one last kiss, and then they went their separate ways.

Aramis still had a job to finish … and he really dreaded it.

XxXxX

When it was all over, and poor Emilie was left with nothing, Aramis, Constance, and the Queen started making their way back to Paris.

Aramis was rather silent throughout the journey, and Anne began to wonder why.

When they arrived at the Palace, Anne was quick to ask Aramis to follow her, where she led him to a private room.

"Aramis, is everything alright?" she asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Aramis said, careful to keep his voice quiet. Just in case. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You just seem a little down," the Queen replied. "Is this because of Emilie."

The Musketeer sighed and then nodded slowly. It's like she could read his mind. "I just feel guilty for destroying the only thing that she thought she had," he said.

"You did the right thing, Aramis. You told her the truth."

"She wouldn't even look at me," Aramis countered. "I feel like when she learned the truth, she … lost a part of herself. And it was my fault. Maybe I should have just left it alone …"

"And endanger the King?" Anne said. "Treville would not have forgiven you for that."

Aramis shook his head.

Right at that time, Constance knocked and opened the door, peeking her head in. "The King wants to see you, Your Majesty," she said, smiling at Aramis, who bowed his head at her presence.

"Tell him I have a headache, Constance," Anne replied simply. "And that I won't be coming out of my quarters. And please request that no one come in. I want to be alone for the rest of today."

Constance nodded. "Yes, Your Highness," she said. With that, she left the room, shutting the door on her way out.

Aramis turned back to her, a confused expression on his face. "Alone?" he asked.

"Alone with you, of course," the Queen said.

She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently, smiling when he kissed her back.

He picked her up then and spun her around, grinning. Anne kissed him harder, one hand traveling onto his strong chest.

"I don't think we should be doing this in the Palace," Aramis said quietly, chuckling.

"Then where would you suggest?" Anne asked, pulling away. Her eyes were wide and full of joy.

Aramis shrugged. "I do not know," he replied.

He kissed the top of her head and pulled her into his arms. They stood there in silence, just breathing.

Anne felt Aramis' chest rise and fall with each breath, and it brought her comfort. She buried her face in his jacket, both hands on his shoulders.

And Aramis kept his chin on her hair, thinking. He closed his eyes, relaxing for the first time in a few days.

The Queen literally felt the tension leave her lover, and she sighed in relief. She hugged him tighter, inhaling his sweet scent.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he finally whispered.

She looked up. "Please," she said. "Just call me Anne."

Aramis smiled. "Alright," he said. "Thank you … Anne."

The way her name slipped off his tongue … so delicate and beautiful. Anne couldn't resist and kissed him. He kissed her back.

In a few hours, they were lying in the Queen's bed. Nobody had visited them, which they were both grateful for, and when it came time for Aramis to leave, he easily slipped out of the Palace's back entrance and was on his way to the garrison, a big smile on his face as he walked the streets of Paris.


	6. Chapter 6: Through a Glass Darkly

**So this is another one of my favorite chapters that could have given Aramis a bigger part. I just can't believe that they just left him there! I just couldn't leave it like that. I needed to put in more angst. That episode already got me crying, so I decided that I needed to make myself even more depressed by expanding the episode :)**

 **Please read and review!**

 **Also, I want to change the name of this story, but don't know to what. Any ideas? Please tell me in your reviews. Thank you!**

 **-M**

* * *

Chapter 6: Through a Glass Darkly

Aramis woke up to nothing but pain. His body ached, and his head spun even with his eyes closed. That being said, he slowly opened them, finding himself lying on … he didn't even know what it was.  
And then he finally noticed how much of this pain he was in. He reached his hand back and took out a large piece of glass from out of his hair. He gasped, feeling his blood on his fingers.

Slowly, he got himself got, everything around him spinning. He took a look around him, and almost laughed at his luck. He walked up to the building's wall, and without wasting a second, began to climb …

… and almost fell from the burning in his ribs. "Damn," he muttered.

He continued climbing, reaching a ledge in what seemed like hours.

Everything else was a blur as he saved the Queen and his comrades. He remembered barely paying attention to Marguerite, and felt no remorse either.

He barely was able to get on his horse, and he prayed that the others didn't see it. He barely spoke throughout the entire ride, instead decided to focus on trying to control the pain, which was slowly increasing.

And finally, his eyes closed and he fell of his horse, curling into himself. His steed jumped, made a terrified noise, and ran off towards a new direction, managing to hit Aramis' shoulder with its hoof.

Aramis cried out.

"Aramis!" Porthos screamed, stopping his horse and jumping off, running over to his fallen friend.

The King's carriage stopped.

"What is this?" His Highness asked, looking out the window and seeing Aramis. "Why have we stopped?"

"Something has happened, Sire," Anne said, placing her hand over her mouth, her eyes traveling to her secret lover.

"So?" Louis pouted. "Why would we stop just because of a problem that doesn't concern us?"

"One of your Musketeers is injured, Your Highness!" Anne exclaimed, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

Louis looked at Anne, and noticed her expression. He started to get suspicious …

… Porthos, Athos, and d'Artagnan had turned Aramis around and opened up his shirts, which revealing the terrible bruises on his ribs, a bullet graze on his side, and the huge cut on the back of his head; they all worried about him having a concussion.

"Aramis, where does it hurt?" Athos asked, his eyes wide.

The man groaned, beginning to breathe heavily. "Side ... head ... ribs … shoulder," he murmured, gritting his teeth. "Dislocated … broken."

Porthos cursed.

"What happened?!" they all heard Her Majesty ask. She ran over to them and fell on her knees, looking Aramis over. She gasped.

"Aramis is more injured than cared to tell us," d'Artagnan said, sighing.

"Dear God," Anne whispered.

"Your Majesty, you must go," Athos said. "His Highness and the Dauphin needs you."

The Queen looked up and realized that Athos knew about their secret. She nodded, stood up, and went back into the carriage. Just before she entered the small compartment, she wiped away all her tears and stepped in, not saying anything to the King.

"Is he alright?" Louis asked.

"I'm hoping so," Anne replied.

She looked out to see Porthos leaning Aramis against him.

"We need to relocate your shoulder, Aramis," he said softly. "This will hurt, alright?"

Aramis smiled weakly. "Do your worst," he said.

He screamed when Athos relocated his shoulder, his body beginning to tremble as he fell against Porthos' arms.  
"I'm sorry, Aramis," Athos said.

"I have been through worse, Athos, you do not need to apologize." Came the choked reply.

Athos chuckled.

Next, Aramis' ribs were tightly wrapped. When they finished, Porthos helped him atop his horse, and they began their journey back to the Palace, where, after seeing the King and Queen off, they went back to the garrison right away.

"Get him into his room, now!" Porthos screamed, getting off his horse and helping Aramis down as well. He winced at his friend's quiet whimper.

With the help of a few Musketeer cadets, Aramis was taken into his room, where he was undressed and put into bed. A medic was called in, who stitched up Aramis' bullet graze, and announced that Aramis, in fact, did have a minor concussion.

For the next few hours, the Musketeers didn't leave his comrade's side. Porthos spent his time trying to get the shards of glass out of his hair, d'Artagnan stayed silent, and Athos wouldn't stop pacing.

Soon enough, Aramis began to shiver, and they realized that he had a fever. They sat with him through the night, helping him overcome it. It was difficult … but they succeeded.

Finally, he woke up.

"About time," Porthos said, his voice angry. "Why the hell didn't you tell us that you're injured?"

Aramis' eyes widened, and then sighed. "I'm sorry," he said.

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "Aramis …," he started, but cut himself off. He stood up, and reached for his hand. "Thank God you're alright now," he finished.

Aramis smiled.

"How did you even survive?" Porthos asked. "The fall should have broken your neck."  
"He's Aramis, Porthos, what do you expect?" Athos answered.

They all broke into a chuckle.

Porthos took his hand and squeezed, not needing to say anything else.

In a few hours, the Queen was notified that Aramis was safe and treated. She couldn't believe her relief.

And then, in two days, Aramis went to see her.

And the first thing that she did was kiss him … like there was not going to be a tomorrow. "I'm so happy you're okay," she whispered, beginning to sob.

Aramis kissed her gently, pulling her close to him. "Shhh, it's alright," he said. "I'm here, I'm safe."

The Queen buried her head in his - thankfully - uninjured shoulder, crying in his arms.

"It's alright," he kept saying. "I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere, either."


	7. Chapter 7: Trial and Punishment

**Another one of my favorite episodes. Tell me what you think! Thanks for all the amazing and kind reviews so far.**

 **Please, make sure to tell me ideas for a new title for this story. I truly don't know what it should be. Also, if you guys want to see a continuation of this chapter, please tell me, and I'll think about writing something. No promises though ;)**

 **Anyway, enjoy! I think I did really well with this one!**

 **-M**

* * *

Chapter 7: Trial and Punishment

Aramis tried to hard to get out of his chains. He struggled, and struggled, and struggled … until he couldn't take the pain in his wrists anymore. He sunk to the ground, throwing his head against the wall.

In a few hours, night had fallen, the cold seeping into the dank prison and through Aramis' bones. And then, a little while later … Rochefort, and a couple of guards, walked into his cell.

Rochefort smiled when he saw his prisoner shaking with cold. He kneeled down, took a fistful of Aramis' hair, and forced the man to look at him. Aramis glared at him, but his eyes were weak, and he knew it.

"Are you going to kill me?" he said, looking straight into his captor's cold eyes.

The mad man laughed, and it brought shivers to Aramis' spine. "Quite the contrary," he said, his finger traveling from Aramis' hair to his chin. Aramis flinched away. Rochefort easily took him by his hair, forcing him to look at him again. "I am going to destroy you. And then, when you are too weak to even make a run for it, the wheel will finish the job. So … let's begin, shall we?"

"You're insane!" Aramis yelled, thrashing against his chains. "You will _never_ get away with this!"  
"In the condition you will be in, I will most definitely get away with this," Rochefort replied, grinning.

He walked over to a guard, who was holding a strange box. Rochefort opened it … and took out a whip.

Aramis felt his eyes open wide, and he couldn't hold a panicked gasp. "You bastard," he whispered.

"What was that, Aramis?" Rochefort teased, knowing exactly what he had said.

"You bastard!" Aramis cried out, beginning to struggle again.

Two guards walked up to him and held him, their grips incredibly strong.

Rochefort took out a knife from his weapon's belt, and used it to cut open Aramis' shirts.

The Musketeer felt the tip of the weapon slice his skin; he held in a quiet moan.

Soon enough, Aramis was shirtless, and Rochefort was practicing with the offending weapon he was holding. Every time Aramis heard the deafening crack of that whip, he winced.

"Now," Rochefort finally said. "Let's start."

He raised his hand and brought it down right above Aramis.

The poor man tensed when he felt the first hit. He took in a sharp breath, but refused to scream.

Another hit.

This time, Aramis whimpered. The men standing on each side of him smiled and tightened their holds on their target.

Oh the fifth hit, Aramis cried out. His breathing hitched, and he hung his head, biting his lip. He felt steadily blood falling down his back.

Rochefort laughed. "I'm going to make you scream, Aramis," he said. "I'm going to make you scream for what you and the Queen did. She was supposed to be mine."

"The Queen will never … love you," Aramis managed to say after another hit. "She sees … you as a monster … she will never love … you.

At those words, Rochefort roared in rage and hit Aramis so hard, the end of the whip unexpectedly curled around Aramis' shoulder, biting his skin.

This time, Aramis screamed. He began to breath heavily, each gasp of air cut off by the next hit. "I … love her!" he finally yelled. "And if that … means dying for her … then I will happily do it."

Rochefort hit Aramis one more time, the anger radiating off of him. "Let him down," he growled.

The guards obeyed, releasing Aramis.

The man collapsed onto the ground, trembling. He curled into himself, moaning.

"You will be executed tomorrow," Rochefort said. "Before that, I will return and continue what we have started. For now, I suggest you get some rest."

He kicked Aramis for good measure. The poor man screamed, trying hard not to pass out from the pain. "I will make you pay," he said. "I swear to God I will make you pay."

Without saying anything else, Rochefort and his guards left.

Aramis doubled over, cursing and coughing. Pain consumed him, making it hard to breath. Everything was spinning, and tears were glazed over his eyes. He slowly began to drift into sleep, and soon couldn't feel anything.

XxXxX

After another torture session, Aramis was left alone for a few hours until he heard a rustling noise. He tensed, as if waiting for Rochefort to come in.

But it wasn't him who came in. It was Milady.

When she saw him, she gasped, running over to him. "This is not for you, it's for Athos," she quickly said.

"I still owe … you my thanks," Aramis said weakly.

It took over an hour to get Aramis to the safe house his friends were using. When she got him in, they all rushed over to their comrade. They didn't even know that Milady had left.

"Oh God, what did that bastard do to you?" Porthos gasped, looking at Aramis' whip lashes.

Aramis just groaned, falling to the ground.

He was carried to a bed, and then Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan began mending Aramis' wounds. It was painful for all of them, but in two hours, they finally finished and left Aramis to rest.

"I can't believe Rochefort would do that," d'Artagnan said, his hand on his forehead.

"Well he did," Athos replied. "And he would have kept going if not for the execution."  
"What are we going to do?"

"We are going to finish this once and for all," Porthos said. "We are going to avenge Aramis, if it's the last thing we do."

They all looked at the sleeping man on the bed, who was shivering violently. A silent agreement passed between the three of them.

"For Aramis," Porthos said.

"For Aramis," Athos and d'Artagnan repeated.

XxXxX

By the time Aramis woke up, Rochefort had been defeated. Although he didn't know it.

He found himself lying in a bed with the Queen at his bedside. When she saw him, she cried out, reaching for his hand.

"You're awake," she said.

"Rochefort?" he asked immediately, gasping in pain.

Anne placed her hand on his arm. "He's dead, Aramis," she replied. "And our secret is now safe again."

"The others?"

"They are with the King."

The man sighed with relief, closing his eyes. "I shouldn't have done this to you," he whispered. "I should have stopped before I let it go too far … which it did … this is all my-"

He was cut off when Anne placed her lips on his. He forgot all about what he had been saying and began to kiss her back, his hand squeezing her own.

"I'm sorry," he finally said."

"This is not your fault," the Queen assured him. "I love you, I truly do. And no matter what, I will always be by your side."

Aramis kissed her again. "Thank you," he murmured in her ear.

Anne pulled away. "Now, you need some rest," she said. "I will be right here."

The Musketeer nodded. "Alright."

She helped him back under the covers, wincing at his every remark of pain. The minute he got comfortable, Aramis closed his eyes and fell asleep again, feeling Anne's hand gliding up his arm.


	8. Chapter 8: We Are the Garrison

**I know, I know! This is incredibly short. This is also the last chapter of this story! I decided to end it here, so I could work on some other stuff. I have so many ideas. Just bare with me, you guys, I promise I will start writing my next story soon.**

 **In the meantime, enjoy this last episode! Thank you for all the sweet and kind reviews you have left me. They all really made my week - which hasn't been the best - much better!**

 **-M**

* * *

Chapter 8: We Are the Garrison

Aramis watched his son play, a smile forming on his face. Turning around, he slowly walked behind a pillar, where the Queen herself was standing. She was looking at him with loving, gentle eyes. He walked up to her, pulling her into his arms. Anne happily placed her hand on his chest, her gaze traveling to his lips.

She leaned in, and Aramis met her halfway. She sighed, placing her hands on his forearms when he took hold of her face. When they pulled away, Aramis kept his head against hers, nuzzling her nose.

Anne raised her hand to trace the scar he had gotten protecting her from that ill man. Aramis shivered at her touch and grunted quietly. "I never had a chance to thank you," she whispered.

"Just doing my duty, Your Majesty," Aramis replied.

"Please," she said. "Call me Anne."

He nodded. "Alright … Anne."

A smile appeared on the Queen's face as she came in for another kiss. She knotted her fingers in his curly locks with one hand, cupping his face with the other. "You know, Aramis," she said. "Blue is definitely not your color."  
Aramis pulled away and smirked. "Then I guess I will have to change," he said teasingly.

Quickly and quietly, the two made their way to Aramis' bedroom, and the minute they closed the door, they found themselves in another kiss, this time much more passionate. Aramis picked her up and spun her around, laughing. _His real, heartwarming laugh,_ Anne thought.

He pulled on top of him as he fell on the bed, wrapping his arms around her.

In a few hours, Anne was lying beside a shirtless Aramis, her hand on his strong chest. She felt him stroking the top of her head gently while her hand glided up and down his arm.

"You know, Anne," he suddenly said. "If anyone finds out about this …."

"Nobody will find out, Aramis," the Queen interrupted. "And if they do … they won't have a say in it. Now that you're my Minister, everything has changed. And now that Louis is … dead … nothing is stopping us."

She kissed him again, taking his hand.

"God, I love you," Aramis muttered.

Anne pulled away, staring at him in shock. "What?"

"I said I love you, Anne," he said again. "I really do."

He reached for her hand and planted a small kiss on her knuckles.

"Well then I love you too," she replied, kissing him one more time and then cuddling up against the man.

Aramis planted a kiss on her forehead and then wrapped his arms around her small form. "If anything ever happened to you, I would never be able to forgive myself," he said quietly.

"And that is why you're never going to let anything happen to me," Anne told him. "That is why I'm always going to be safe."

The Musketeer smiled. "I hope so."  
"I know so," Anne replied, kissing him one more time.

Aramis happily kissed his lover back with equal passion, if not more.


End file.
